


Breaking a Sweat

by towards_morning



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Infidelity, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Referenced breeding kink, Referenced heat, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27690448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towards_morning/pseuds/towards_morning
Summary: A little collection of (mostly) PWP ficlets, because I've lost control of my life and we all need something nice right now.Chapter three: Minimus/Rung -Rung dipped a single long digit into Minimus' spark corona, and he smiled a little when Minimus tried hard to gasp and failed.Chapter four: Magnus/Drift -It's probably for the best Magnus doesn't know he's working from experience when he hooks one pede under a broad, armoured thigh and pushes down again, that he knows exactly why it’s a good way to distract while handcuffed; if he did, he'd probably stop.
Relationships: Chromedome/Dominus Ambus/Rewind (Transformers), Chromedome/Rewind (Transformers), Drift | Deadlock/Ultra Magnus, Minimus Ambus/Rewind (Transformers), Minimus Ambus/Rung (Transformers), Optimus Prime/Starscream, Orion Pax/Starscream
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've had horrible problems writing lately, and my solution was to do short wordsprints with a pairing, a one word prompt, and absolutely no shame whatsoever.
> 
> So anyway this one is ros3bud009's fault, because she enables the absolute trashiest ship I have (for which I am grateful). This chapter carries a warning for infidelity.

It was rare they did this in person. Normally, they did it separated by a combination of plausible deniability and their comms; only every now and again did Minimus feel Rewind press his face into the pillow and grind into his valve, harsh.

The distance was usually welcome. But right now, with his frame suffused with a barrage of input from his heat, confused and desperate for something to ground itself on, to cling to, Minimus could only faintly whine his gratitude as he bit down hard and tried to thrust back.

Above him, Rewind tutted. One hand suddenly pushed his hips back down into the overly soft berth. All pillows and coverings and decadence.

"Stay still," Rewind said.

"Greedy," Rewind then said after when Minimus failed to stop himself, only a  _ little  _ fond and mostly chastising as he circled his hips and slipped a free servo down between Minimus' legs. One finger found his node, just barely, and flicked it. Once, twice. "Hm, you look so nice here, you know."

Minimus felt his whole frame clench at the words. Nice,  _ here _ . Rewind holding him down in his- in their- in the berth that-

Even in the throes of heat he struggled to let himself say it, even though knowing  _ exactly _ where they were, whose berth it was, sent hot shocks up his spine. Rewind, unaware of this, continued in time with his thrusting hips, spike driving home, the hand between Minimus' thighs alternating between fondling his node and pulling his already abused valve further apart around his spike. "Wonder what  _ you _ would look like, after a conjunx ceremony," Rewind mused as he continued, and Minimus tried very, very hard not to think in specifics. "If you're like this for me now..."

Rewind trailed off, hitching Minimus' hips against his, and Minimus kept his face down and his mouth shut, desperate and fearful. Rewind's spike felt wonderful, owning him. Rewind's words felt terrifying, and so easy to believe.

"Bet you'd ask me to spark you," Rewind half-whispered, before falling silent. His hips picked up the pace even as Minimus felt every vent he had split open at those words. Rewind didn't say anything more until he spilled inside Minimus, and Minimus didn't stop shaking until he felt himself cry out and overload all over those sheets, not his, except for right now.

Afterwards, they neither of them said a word. Minimus tried not to let his curling around Rewind say anything too affirmative, but he never was good at judging that kind of thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place in [the Primacy AU, but it's just PWP, so I guess I'll just drop it here, hah.](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1424047) First time topping!

"Mind the wings," Starscream said, hips wriggling down the berth. The wings in question were held stiff, joints practically creaking. Stress, embodied. Orion refrained from commenting on it. Instead, he trailed one hand down the left side and then the right, gentle as he could manage. And after, he pretended not to take note of the way Starscream involuntarily shivered. He let his digits drift to find hinges that made Starscream first flinch and then melt, and then he kept at them, one at a time. Over and over, gentle and unyielding both.

After a few kliks, Orion dared let his other hand trail down to Starscream's midsection, careful to keep it slow. By the time he got to cupping Starscream's array, now bared, Orion had watched him start to relax back into the berth. Not quite,  _ actually  _ relaxed. But at least enjoying himself. Getting there.

Orion flicked Starscream's node a little harder than strictly necessary when he found it, and smiled at the aborted in-vent. He did it again, unable to resist, and Starscream hauled himself up onto his elbows, face flustered and optics narrowed. He looked furious and full of heat both.

"I said you could spike me," Starscream said, marvelously offended, "I didn't say you could-"

The cut off came as Orion took a moment to work one thumb inside his valve. A small intrusion, and he made sure to go slow, but Starscream characteristically reacted as though he'd been shot in the spark and didn't want to admit to having being caught off guard. Even so, Orion watched as he slowly melted into it, hips bucking up slowly. The line between being needy and demanding what you wanted was slim. Orion let him cross it, happy to watch him regardless.

He massaged the top of Starscream’s valve channel, just as he himself liked it. Starscream kicked a leg out, dangerously hard, and snapped, "Well get on with it then!" Orion wondered if Starscream heard his own defensiveness, then dismissed the thought to focus on more productive things instead.

Before he had agreed to do this, Orion had insisted on a few conversations. Most of these had been exactly as unwilling to commit to honesty as one might realistically expect given one half of the participants. Here and now, Orion took the desperate, blunt demand as a win.

Lining up his spike with Starscream's valve, he still snuck a glance at Starscream’s face, still not entirely sure. He found Starscream was looking at Orion in turn. His lip was between his denta, and he looked a little nervous, but then Starscream promptly wrapped both his own long fingered hands around his own legs to pull them back, valve stretching in welcome. Making invitation a kind of impatient demand:  _ come on, then _ . Bossy even now. Probably, Orion thought with suffocating fondness, that made it more familiar. In turn Orion remembered every time Starscream had snapped at some too well meaning, too soft person who might think to extend pity, not knowing Starscream well enough to know better, and let himself slide in without any undue questioning.

"Oh," he distantly heard Starscream gasp, just within his own awareness. It was hard not to overload immediately, Orion carefully stilling himself as he vented harshly, and once the urge passed, even harder to not promptly give in to the urge to rut until he did.

But once he had restrained himself, Orion met Starscream's eyes as he gave a rolling thrust, trying to send the feeling throughout Starscream's valve, looking for his ceiling node. The another, and another, and he couldn't quite find it, but watching Starscream's wary optics melt into heat, hearing his nervous gasps turn into demands to go  _ harder _ -

Orion thrust again, and again, and did his best to match the smile Starscream had found. They’d get there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rung/Minimus spark play!
> 
> Dedicated to Harper, my rungmin partner in crime.

Rung dipped a single long digit into Minimus' spark corona, and he smiled a little when Minimus tried hard to gasp and failed.

Minimus could feel his fans trying to spin on, could feel his plating rattle as it flared, but all sensation and all his processes was so entirely focused on that one thin intrusion that any and every try stalled. His chestplates were open and his spark fully bared; distantly, he felt his modesty panels retract as well, a dim awareness of cool air hitting his array. Nothing next to the way it felt to have Rung gently twitch that one digit, or to how it felt to be so open even as he looked up at Rung, plating tight against his form, panels closed and the only thing betraying that he was taking Minimus apart the odd twitch of his arm as he stroked.

"Another?" he heard Rung ask, distant as though through water. The glyphs struggled to cohere in Minimus' processor. His entire sensory suite had focused completely on the way Rung was gently moving that one digit back and forth, his spark overwhelmed, trying to chase it even inside his chest. Only distantly did he feel the way his array heated against Rung's thigh, almost an afterthought. Only secondarily did his processor try to answer the question, slow and confused. Rung repeated himself, endlessly patient. "Another, Minimus?"

"Pl-" his vocaliser shorted, but even like this, strung out and glitching, Rung had asked him, and Minimus wanted to answer, wanted to measure up. He tried three times, and on the fourth, managed " _ Please,"  _ and felt absurdly proud. Distantly, he felt his valve clench. A distraction compared to the way Rung lit up above him at his word.

"Of course," Rung said, neat, orderly and in control. He slipped a second finger into the light pooling out of Minimus' chest, no change in his expression. Still smiling. Minimus forced his optics online and watched, grateful, even as he felt himself grasp at the sensation of someone else joining him inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic is because me and the GC were one day like HM. What if Drift had a weird, eroticised absolution kink and also what if it was with Magnus because come ON.
> 
> I wrote this a wee while ago but went back and forth a bit on editing. So here it is at last. This chapter has very brief reference to implied prior abuse of authority.

Around two minutes into Magnus reading him his rights, so to speak, Drift starts to squirm.

It's a pointed movement, designed to press his aft against Magnus' panel. He's handcuffed, but not face down like might be more realistic; Magnus had been so worried as he locked the cuffs onto Drift settled securely in his lap. Careful, perhaps a little too much so. The funny thing is, it's not as though Magnus even particularly _likes_ Drift, even now as the both of them apparently trust each other enough for this. (“Apparently” does a lot of heavy lifting there.) But Magnus is a worrier above all else, so even as his agreement to this scene out of sheer frustration and tension bears fruit, he still won't bend Drift over and hold him down. It’s realistic. Drift thinks the realism might be what worries him the most, the way it makes him think too hard.

But he will ensure accuracy. Hence two minutes of that admittedly lovely voice talking at him, and hence Drift squirming.

Drift can feel Magnus' vents hitch as he does it. His voice stays steady, but when Drift spreads his legs and rolls his hips down where he's tucked into Magnus' lap, again and again, he feels those brief catches, hears the intakes stuttering. It's probably for the best Magnus doesn't know he's working from experience when he hooks one pede under a broad, armoured thigh and pushes down again, that he knows exactly why it’s a good way to distract while handcuffed; if he did, he'd probably stop. That, in turn, might even be the reason Drift won’t stop, started this to begin with. Best not to dwell on it.

Magnus stammers when Drift disengages his modesty panelling and lets his wet valve grind down on that broad leg he's tucked into. It's not unexpected, surely, they had agreed this beforehand, but it still seemingly catches Magnus off guard, stilling his words after a few moments of frantic stutters. Drift tunes it out, focuses on how it feels to bring Magnus to a halt, and on how good it feels not only that he has his hands cuffed but that he knows precisely how to get out of said cuffs if he so pleases. There’s probably a whole monograph in there for Rung if only Drift didn’t skip out, very carefully, on all his appointments.

They hadn't discussed _exactly_ how Drift was going to go about this, not in detail. The broad strokes. All the important things, boundaries et cetera. So when Drift grinds down and struggles against his cuffs and gasps out "I'm sorry-" it jolts both of them, not what he meant to say even if it is, in fact, the crux of what he _wants_ to say. It sends a jolt of panic through him, not charge, but the panic fades into tension fades into the way Magnus curls a big, big hand around his waist, and by the time it all mixes together, he’s gasping. Drift really meant to be more... more... well it was supposed to be something where they both could act and not admit it outright, anyway. But when he says it, says _I’m sorry_ and squirms, Magnus goes still and Drift can't stop grinding down, caught and helpless as he gasps it out again and again, only a suddenly sympathetic ear listening, letting him make a fool of himself. Magnus’ face is indescribable, the way it collapses in sympathy as he repeats it. Drift turns away. His panel is open, and the soft wetness makes him feel too exposed.

Magnus doesn't pick up his role. He just leaves one big, impartial hand curled around Drift's waist and lets him go on, refuses to stop him. _Sorry- I'm sorry-_

Primus, Drift has never wished so hard for someone to drone on before. The understanding silence is near overstimulating.

"Go on," Magnus says when he finally pauses, so quiet despite his size it's hard to hear. He clears his vocalizer, barely audible. "What for."

Drift is in over his head. He offlines his optics, grinds his node against a thigh that belongs to someone long since gone, and opens his mouth.


End file.
